The Past Life of Sebastian Michaelis
by BlueRaven666
Summary: Every demon suffered a horrible tragedy before their first death as a human. What stories does Sebastian Michaelis have to tell? A collection of one-shots.
1. Story 1: Nevermore

**The Past Life of Sebastian Michaelis**

In his past life as a human, Sebastian had originally been a man named Michael.

Michael could have only been described as being the prefect man. He was handsome, strong, athletic, loyal, kind, honest, and true. He never lied; not once before his death. He was talented enough to play the violin and had a voice that most would say could only have belonged to an angel.

But Michael wasn't the perfect man most people had thought him to be. He was a murderer; killing those he held a grudge against or those who crossed him over. Despite the wealthy appearance his face carried, he was poor. He wore ragged clothes and sometimes stole food just to pull him through another day. The violin he played was one he had found in an abandoned building in the village he resided in.

But not all was bad in Michael's life. He may have never had a friend, but he was one of the few fortunate people that managed to find a lover. There was a beautiful woman named Yvonne who knew of Michael's nature, but was so drawn in by his good looks, charm, and talent that she didn't care; and that dark secret was locked away in the woman's pocket.

One day, however, Michael was out for a stroll when a prostitute spotted him from a mile away.

"Hey there, mister," she said in a lustful tone, "Care for a taste?"

Michael merely shook his head, "Sorry, love. Not today."

The prostitute was not one to give up so easily, "Come now. Why don't we go back to my place and just . . . have a little fun?"

"No, thank you. Please, leave now."

The prostitute ran her hands along his shoulders, "Pretty please?"

"I said, 'no' already. Go away!"

She wrapped her hands around his torso and ran her hands over areas that made him cringe.

"Leave that Yvonne for just ten minutes for a slice of heaven and . . ."

Something inside of Michael snapped and he whipped around and grabbed the prostitute by her long, blond hair.

"I tried to ask nicely . . ."

Michael reached into a pocket in a black trench coat he wore and pulled out a knife. He stabbed and gutted the woman like a fish and left her to die in the street.

"No means no, love. You should do well to remember that."

Michael walked away as if the mess he'd just made was no big deal and he continued on to Yvonne's house for a visit.

However, Yvonne had watched the displays of affection the prostitute had shown him from a great distance inside her house and she took it the wrong way; thinking Michael had cheated on her.

"I can't believe you would do this to me!" she screeched at him when he'd entered the house, "After all we've been through, after all these years of feeding you, keeping your damn secret; even giving you a place to sleep, you throw me away for some whore off the street!"

"Yvonne, she came onto me and I wanted no part of her."

"Oh, and I thought you couldn't lie, when obviously that's a lie in itself. You know, I thought you were different from all the other men in this world, Michael. I thought you loved me, and only me. But now I see I was wrong; you're just the same as every man in this world. You just want a woman for her body, and nothing more."

"That's not true. I _do_ love you; only you. I can never love another person so long as I shall live!"

"Damn you, Michael! Stop lying to me and just go to Hell, already! I wish you were dead!"

And that's what did Michael in. He took Yvonne's words to heart and backed out the door.

"Very well, my love . . . If that's what it takes to make you happy, I will grant your wish."

Michael disappeared into the woods outside of the village with his knife in his hands. He walked as far away as his feet could carry him. Tears streamed down his face as he sobbed uncontrollably. He had lost the only thing that held him together all these years.

Michael sank to his knees and cried out his emotional agony for all to hear . . . or no, as he was alone. In his grief, Michael plunged his knife deep into his stomach, and again, and again, and again. No matter how much pain the knife caused it could never amount to the agony that washed over him at the thought of his true love hating him and never wanting to see him again; wishing he was dead. He collapsed into the grass under the leafless trees, crying out one name.

"Yvonne . . . Yvonne . . . Yvonne . . ."

A dark shape sitting in the trees caught his attention.

A raven. A great, black, common raven sat there on a limb, watching as the life bleed out of Michael slowly. Another raven joined it, and another, and another, and another.

As Michael grew weaker, the birds descended from the trees and began to peck him.

"Once upon a midnight dreary . . ." Michael hummed, "While I pondered weak and weary . . . This ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling . . . By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore . . . `Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven . . . Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore - Tell me what. . . thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!' . . . Quoth the raven, `_Nevermore_.'."

And the ravens pecked and pecked and pecked . . .

* * *

><p>Yvonne thought Michael had been joking when he told her he'd "grant her wish", as he was the type to joke and play games and tease. She thought that any moment he was going to return through the door still trying to apologize to her.<p>

But days passed and Michael never returned; not even when it rained or got cold. Yvonne had stopped seeing him around the village. Things were getting . . . weird, and Yvonne—for the first time in the past few days—was concerned about him. The murders around the village had stopped . . .

Yvonne knew it wasn't like Michael to stop killing.

She slipped on a cloak and took a horse to search for him.

He wasn't in the village . . .

He wasn't near the trading routes . . .

The only place she could think of where Michael could have gone was into the woods, and that made her worry. Most people who went into the woods went there to die.

Yvonne kept her horse walking until she saw a shape lying in the middle of the grass. Her face fell in horror as she saw a bloody skeleton lying there with scraps of flesh hanging off the bones. She wanted to vomit! The smell was so awful it must have been able to lure in scavengers from miles around.

The glint of metal lying in the grass beside the body caught her attention and she gained the nerve to dismount her horse and approach it. She took the metal object in her hand and looked it over.

It was a knife . . . a very _familiar_ knife.

"Michael . . ." Yvonne began to sob at the realization that she was kneeling in front of the man she used to love, "No . . . oh, Michael, I'm so sorry! I take it back! I take it all back!"

The sound of rustling in the grass caught the distressed woman's attention.

An old raven hopped along on its feet, tumbling over various times. It was obviously sick and dying. It looked at Yvonne with a cold stare before pressing on until it was perched on one of the skeleton's ribs. The raven let out a scraggly caw before its twig-like legs folded and it collapsed inside of the corpse's rib cage.

Yvonne watched as the raven took a tiny puff of a breath before dying.

There was an eeriness to the air and Yvonne raced back to her horse. She kicked the beast hard and they flew back down the hill they'd trudged up earlier.

Ravens that died like that were bad omens, and she knew it.

Suddenly, her horse took a bad stumble and they both fell. The horse died instantly after the fall broke its neck. Yvonne couldn't move. She was paralyzed from the waist down.

As the wind stirred, she could hear a distant voice calling her name.

"Yvonne . . . Yvoooonnne . . ."

"M-Michael? Is that you? Am I dead?"

A menacing laugh hit the air and she felt a warm breath sigh into her ear.

"No . . . But I'm going to make you wish you were . . ."


	2. Story 2: Yvonne

**Story #2**

Being a demon isn't all sunshine and rainbows. It's fire and smoke, too. Michaelis, formerly known as 'Michael' was finding this out, first-hand. In the beginning, everything was torture to him. He wore a pair of high-heeled boots on his feet, which were intentionally a half-size too small. They crushed his toes together and made the last two on each foot go numb, then a sharp pain would shoot through them, and then they'd go numb again. His demonic features grew in, including a pair of long, curved, and wickedly sharp horns, teeth that were all sharp and jagged, and talons that were three inches long. He was blessed with a pair of large, black, crow-like wings. A metal collar was fit snuggly around his neck so it chaffed and rubbed uncomfortably against his skin.

But Michaelis had found that being a demon had its perks, too. The only thing that could do you in for good was a demon sword. You could be shot in the head, gutted, have a limb cut off, get into a carriage accident, or jump off a really high building, and still live. Everything healed properly. Missing body parts grew back and scars were never left behind. Sure, it would hurt like hell for about two days, but an eternity was just a little bit longer than that. The other demons that crossed his path weren't bad company; especially one by the name of Faustus, but he could be a pain at times, as well.

There was only one thing about his life as a demon that brought Michaelis down . . .

Yvonne.

He always growled at the thought of her, and since he had drug her down into this pit of misery along with him, there was no getting rid of her.

The woman—paralyzed from the waist down—was chained to a wall in a dark dungeon Michaelis had taken a liking to. She was always covered in bruises from the demon hitting her. She was his own little stress ball and powerless to do anything about it. She did her best to stay quiet, because if she said something, no matter how far away he was, Michaelis always heard her and he'd snap again and again and again.

One day, though, she found she could no longer silence her despair.

"Michael . . . Michael . . . I'm so sorry . . ." and then Yvonne would start to panic, "Let me out! Please, someone let me out!"

A loud crash sounded from somewhere outside the dungeon, and Yvonne knew it was Michaelis.

The raven demon stormed into the room, beyond enraged.

"Oh. My. God! Will you _shut up_ already?! Your persistent complaining gets very annoying, you know?"

Yvonne started to cry as she hung limply by her shackles. Michaelis brought his hand back, threatening to slap her. At this, Yvonne let out a frightened shriek and turned away and Michaelis slowly lowered his hand to his side.

"You're pathetic!" he snarled, "I told you I was going to make you wish you were dead. The least you could have done is prepare yourself for it. Or did you think I was lying about that, too?"

"I'm sorry!" Yvonne wailed, "I take it back. I didn't mean it. Please, forgive me!"

"Forgive? _Forgive_?! You took everything from me! My love, my trust, my faith, my pride, my sanity; and you want me to _forgive you_? What happened to, 'Just go to Hell already! I wish you were dead!' huh?! What happened to that, Yvonne?!"

Michaelis didn't grow hoarse when he screamed at her; not like he used to, and he was glad of that. He wanted all of his rage to come out when he wanted it to come out.

In his rage, the demon kicked the far wall of the dungeon, causing it to shatter and crumble. He let out a roar that surely all of Hell heard.

"Michael, please . . . I told you, I'm sorry." Yvonne whimpered.

The demon took a few calming breaths, "'_is_'."

"What?"

"Michael**_is_**! It's Michael**_is_**, now!"

"Michaelis . . . what if I could show you how sorry I am?"

"Humph . . . and how do you plan on doing that?"

". . . Just unchain one of my hands, and . . ."

Michaelis let out an enraged roar, "How _stupid_ do you think I _am_?!"

"You're not stupid, Michaelis! I was wrong and you were right, and I should have listened. Just unchain one of my hands and I'll show you how sorry I am."

Michaelis looked to Yvonne's shackles. Due to the weight the lack of support her legs caused, the metal of the cuffs were digging into her wrists; causing blood to run down her bruised arms. In a flash, he grabbed one of her wrists with a rough hand with enough force to leave marks. He pulled his hand away and observed the blood that coated his fingers. He brought his hand closer to his face and inhaled deeply. A long, slithery, pink tongue crawled out from between Michaelis' pursed lips and lapped away at the thick, sticky fluid. Only when the hand was completely clean did he look back to Yvonne.

"I promise you can trust me. I won't do anything stupid."

Michaelis snorted irritably, "I doubt that."

He reached to a belt that was wrapped around his waist and took out a tiny, silver key. he shoved it into the lock of one of the cuffs and turned it, releasing one of Yvonne's hands.

"What if I need two hands?" she asked sweetly.

Michaelis narrowed his eyes and growled, "You said only one. I'm unchaining only one. Show me how sorry you really are, Yvonne, or I'll make sure you're sorry!"

Yvonne swallowed, "Okay, come a little closer."

Michaelis took one large step towards her; stopping nearly five inches away from her face.

Yvonne brought her hand up and ran it over the top of the demon's head. Her fingers massaged his scalp gently and even went around the base of his horns. Michaelis had to admit it . . . this woman was still very good with her hands. He tried to suppress his purring, but failed miserably. It was the best sensation he'd felt in what felt like decades.

Yvonne continued to rub at the demon's head until she was sure his guard was completely down. In one swift motion, she suddenly took a handful of hair from the back of his head and gave a good, hard yank.

Michaelis howled in pain and drew back. Yvonne pulled out a large handful of the raven demon's black hair and some of the skin from his head, leaving a bloody patch behind on the scalp.

The demon snapped and he swung his hand full-force. Yvonne let out a shriek as she was slapped; four distinct claw marks slashed across her face from one cheek to the other. Michaelis grabbed the freed hand and re shackled it.

"And to think I trusted you!"

Yvonne watched in despair as Michaelis took the key to the shackles and swallowed it whole. She let the tears flow, oblivious to the fact that the demon was crying to, and he was crying because the last of his trust was gone.


	3. Story 3: Nothing

**Story 3**

Empty.

Without love, that's all Michaelis was; empty. He couldn't feel anything. If he tried hatred, sorrow, anger, and despair would surface. At least with this empty feeling he was completely numb to any and every emotion. This was his Heaven; where there was no pain.

But his emptiness left him in a completely mindless state. Since his last fight with Yvonne, he hadn't left the far corner of the underground prison. He was slumped against the wall with his hands on his lap. He didn't blink, he didn't move, and he was okay with the silence he'd been shrouded in. He'd always been told that the first century of a demon's life was the hardest, and this would be the solid proof of it.

"Michael?"

Michaelis twitched; jumped, rather. His reaction was similar to as if he'd had a stone thrown at him. The voice had come from Yvonne, who still remained chained to the wall.

"Michael, please . . ." she begged, "Say something . . ."

The only reaction the demon gave was a mere shift of his gaze. His bright red, cat-like eyes met hers. The slight reaction only brought an emotionally hurt look to his face.

"I _know you_, Michael," Yvonne continued, "I know you. You're still there. Somewhere in there is the sweet, gentle, kind, and caring man I love."

"You're wrong . . ." Michaelis' reply was quiet, "There's nothing of that man left."

With that said, Michaelis shifted back into his previous position.

"How many times do I have to tell you I'm sorry before you'll forgive me?" Yvonne asked.

Michaelis let out a slight chuckle, "If I had brought you every last ounce of pain you've brought me, you'd understand. I'm afraid you'll be saying it for a long time, love. 'Sorry' is just a word, after all."

Yvonne looked away from him in a wave of guilt. It'd been years since she'd first been chained up here, and it'd been _days_ since Michaelis had moved from his seat against the wall. He hadn't eaten anything, he hadn't slept; he just sat there—his mind far, far away from where they were.

"Come on, Michael," Yvonne said, "I know there's _something_ left of the man I loved in there."

Michaelis turned his head. The bones in his neck made an audible snapping sound from being in the same position for days on end. The snapping sound travelled throughout his body as he moved and stood up with an annoyed huff. He walked slowly in front of Yvonne so he was right in front of her.

"Tell me, Yvonne," he stated, "What part of this is even remotely familiar from Michael."

The horns, the wings, the feathers, his long black hair, the hellish-red eyes, the sharp jagged teeth; none of them belonged to Michael.

"Your face hasn't changed," Yvonne said, "Your lips are the same as they were the day I first kissed them. Your voice is still soft and warm. You're still the man I know."

Michaelis looked away, "You're wrong . . ."

"_How_? _How_ am I wrong?"

"My lips are meant to do nothing more than suck out and devour human souls. My voice is mean to lure victims in. There is nothing left of the man you loved, Yvonne . . ."

Michaelis moved back to sitting back against the far wall away from her.

". . . Michael is dead."


	4. Story 4: Faustus

Story #4

Sleep was a luxury for demons, and it was one Michaelis loved to indulge in. He had been asleep for up to a week now in Yvonne's small, underground prison. He sat upright on a few large pieces of crumbled bricks with his hands on his lap and his head bowed. Yvonne watched him closely; looking out for any signs that the demon would be waking up soon. Every now and then one of his ears would flick or his nose would twitch or he'd groan and his head would jolt up slightly before bowing once more and drifting off yet again.

Yvonne took the time to rest herself and she'd try to wiggle her way out of the cuffs that still held her wrists. But she knew it was useless. Her wrists wouldn't be freed unless Michaelis chose to free them.

A shadow looming over her head caught her attention, at one point. A pair of golden-yellow catlike eyes glowed from an unseen face staring in from the above-ground entrance.

"Michaelis!" a low voice hissed, "Michaelis wake up!"

The raven demon didn't stir.

"Come on, Michaelis," the second demon pressed, "Get up!"

No reaction.

The second demon crawled down into the cell and gave a quick glance to Yvonne.

"Are you his pet?"

Yvonne shrugged, "I don't know what I am anymore."

"Interesting . . ." the second demon strode over to Michaelis and picked up a palm-sized stone. With a quick flick of his wrist, he flung it at him, hitting the sleeping demon on top of his head, "Michaelis! Hey, Michaelis, wake up!"

Michaelis' head snapped up and he let out a loud hiss.

"What the ever-living-hell, Faustus?" Don't you know not to bother a demon while he's sleeping?"

"I know," Faustus said with a grin, "I just like pissing you off, is all."

"Your shenanigans are going to get you killed one of these days."

"I know. I actually stopped by to give you a new purpose in life."

Michaelis seemed to be intrigued, "Go on . . ."

"What would you say if I told you it was possible to contract a human with a perfect soul?"

Michaelis scoffed, "I'd have to say you've officially gone insane and that you better let me go back to sleep before I rip you head off."

"Ah-ha! But I'm not insane—at least not completely—and I'm not pulling your feathers on this one, either. A few elder demons were telling me how malleable human souls are, so it's possible to shape them into the perfect soul for a demon to eat."

"You're talking about a perfect soul, here, Faustus; a soul that isn't tainted by fear, regret, denial, uncertainty, hesitation, and complete boredom. There can't be a single human alive that lives that way; therefore, a perfect soul cannot and does not exist."

Faustus gave an annoyed look, "You seem so certain of yourself."

"I am certain of myself, and I just woke up, so that tends to make me a bit hard-headed."

Faustus scoffed, "You _are_ hard headed! Anyways . . ." he suddenly leaned against the wall beside Yvonne and gave a sly smile, "Who's that pretty little thing? Is she a pet?"

Michaelis let out a low, defensive growl, "It's none of your goddamn business who she is. Now, get out!"

Unintimidated, Faustus left; blowing a kiss to Yvonne to irk the raven demon even further.

"Friend of yours?" Yvonne inquired.

"Hardly."

"You know what, Michaelis?"

"What?"

"For a moment there, it sounded like you really cared about me."

Michaelis' eyes settled on hers with an unreadable look to them. A contemplating hum left his throat before he bent over slightly and began to cough. It sounded almost as if he were trying to expel something that was lodged in his throat.

With a final, sickening heave, Michaelis spat an object into his hand. It was incredibly small and shiny and an odd short of shape; like a piece of metal.

Michaelis had coughed up the key to Yvonne's shackles.

The demon strode over to her and freed her shackled hands. He caught her as she fell into his arms with a relieve cry.

"Why?" she implored, "Why did you wait until now to release me?"

"I wouldn't call it 'releasing' you," Michaelis responded, "You're still paralyzed from the waist down. It's not like you can go anywhere. But the way Faustus was looking at you, I couldn't risk leaving you alone when demons like him have a tendency to get sticky fingers."

Michaelis pulled Yvonne onto his lap and caged her in with his arms. His head bowed and his eyes closed, and within a few moments the raven demon was asleep once more.


End file.
